


A Short Rest

by LadyLienDa



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo 2019-2020 [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Concussions, Explosions, Fluff, Gen, Recovery, Snark, help this turned into fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23657380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLienDa/pseuds/LadyLienDa
Summary: For the Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt: ConcussionIn which Anakin finds himself nearly blown up for the umpteenth time. Some padawan-master bonding ensues.
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo 2019-2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1251959
Comments: 3
Kudos: 79





	A Short Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Bad Things Happen Bingo
> 
> Seriously, this wasn't supposed to be this fluffy, but I'm glad it turned out the way it did.
> 
> This is my first Star Wars fic, so please go easy on me!

The world spun and shuddered into existence, like a holo transmission on a bad connection. Everything sounded muffled and there was an awful ringing in his ears. Anakin squinted against the light that speared painfully into his skull and put his hand to his head to quell the sudden, throbbing headache that had sprung up so suddenly. His arm felt heavy and clumsy.

None of this made sense. This space station was supposed to be dimly lit, not blindingly bright! And for a stealth mission, there sure was a lot of noise, although for some reason it still sounded like he was underwater.

A vaguely red, white, and blue shape appeared before him, mercifully blocking some of the searing bright light. He blinked and was able to make out the concerned face of Ahsoka. Why did she look so alarmed?

He tried to sit up and a wave of nausea punched him in the gut, but he tried again anyway, this time managing to pull himself into a sitting position. Something was pressing on his legs, keeping him from moving them, but his vision was still blurry and the lights were still bright, making it impossible to see anything beyond a few feet. Ahsoka’s hands were on his shoulders, steadying him, and he was aware her mouth was moving but he couldn’t make out any words. He shook his head a little in hopes that would clear it.

Bad idea. Groaning, Anakin lurched forward as a lightsaber (well, what certainly _felt_ like a lightsaber if experience was anything to go by) stabbed into his skull at the same time as nausea slammed into his stomach again. His reaction was instantaneous and involuntary. Ahsoka jumped aside with a yelp (he’d actually heard it somewhat clearly – that was good) just in time to avoid the spatter of half-digested ration bars on the pressed metal floor beside them.

There was a small _pop_ and Anakin felt one of his ears clear enough to hear his padawan.

“Okay – you’re clearly _not_ fine!” she was saying, and even with his dulled senses, he noted the concern in her voice. That wasn’t good. Why would she be upset?

He must have mumbled something, because the next words he heard sounded like an answer to a question he didn’t remember asking.

“Infiltration mission,” she was saying. “Seppie space station, remember? The bomb?”

_Bomb? What bomb?_

A beeping noise joined the din assaulting Anakin’s sensitive ears and Ahsoka jumped a little before holding up her wrist.

“Yes, Master,” she said in response to a question Anakin didn’t catch. “Yeah, there was a bomb. I’m fine, but it looks like two men are down and at least two are injured. I’m with Skyguy – I think he’s got a concussion.”

The voice on the comm, which Anakin dimly recognized as Obi-Wan’s, said something else before the comm beeped again and fell silent. There was still banging and shouting echoing all around him, but no blaster fire. The more time passed, the more aware he became, although with that awareness came an increasingly unbearable throbbing in his head. Something red kept dripping into his right eye and he clumsily reached up to feel his forehead. Ahsoka’s hand around his wrist stopped him.

“Please don’t touch it, Master,” she said, frowning with worry. “That looks bad.”

Anakin tried to shift his legs but found he couldn’t. There was a creaking groan of straining metal at the same time as hurried footsteps approached.

“Rex!” Ahsoka called. “Help me get this off him!”

Anakin watched dimly as the two heaved what he assumed was a bent piece of metal wall off his legs before he was hit with another wave of dizziness. His vision dimmed and he nearly blacked out.

Rex was talking. He needed to pay attention.

“Stay with us, General,” he said, his voice strong and reassuring. “General Kenobi’s team is on its way.”

Anakin stared at him dully until something finally clicked. _Mission. Droid ship. Bomb._

He licked his lips, finding his mouth quite dry. “Rex –” he croaked, finding it hard to form words, “Rex, your men. Are they…?”

Rex grimaced, the face of one who had seen this scenario far too often. “Most of us are alright, sir. Jesse’s a little banged up. Tup’s got one hell of a headache, same as you, I’d imagine. Talon and Alec are both dead.”

Anakin felt another punch to his gut that had nothing to do with nausea. It always hurt when one of his men fell. He’d seen hundreds of his men fall in battle and it still felt the same every time.

“We need to get you out of here, General,” Rex continued. “The blast blocked off the hallway, but there’s no way the Seppies don’t know we’re here. They’ll be here soon.”

“I c’n walk,” Anakin slurred, shifting his weight to get his legs under him. His head pounded and his vision grew dangerously dark again. Rex and Ahsoka both protested – their hands moving to keep him in place, but Anakin was determined.

Unfortunately, the moment he was steady enough to slowly begin rising from the floor, another lightsaber of pain seared into his head. This time he wasn’t able to stop the rush of darkness. He pitched headfirst into Ahsoka’s arms and straight through them into empty black space.




He woke again with a groan and instantly shut his eyes again against the searing white light. He could make out low voices somewhere nearby, and whatever he was lying on was softer than the space station floor, so Anakin knew he’d been moved. Judging by the force presences he felt around him (he recognized Fives, Tup, Kix, and the new junior medic, Clay) he assumed this was the medbay. But why were the lights so kriffing bright?

There was another force presence in the room sitting right beside him. This one was much brighter.

“Hi, Master,” he managed to croak, still keeping his eyes firmly shut. “Can you tell Kix to turn down the lights?”

A hand patted him on the shoulder. “Good to see you’re still _you_ after that nasty bell-ringing,” Obi-Wan remarked. “Have you considered a helmet?”

Anakin chuckled, though the movement sent lightsabers into his skull. “Only if you’d consider wearing one,” he replied. “And I know you won’t. It would mess up your perfect hair. Can’t have the famous _Negotiator_ with a bad case of helmet hair.”

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to chuckle. Anakin felt the bed shift as the jedi master turned and presumably motioned to Kix, because he felt the light piercing through his eyelids dim considerably. He opened his eyes and sighed with relief. His head still felt like it was being split open, but at least the light wasn’t assaulting him anymore.

Obi-Wan’s kind face leaned over him, the smile upon it doing little to mask the concern practically oozing out of him through the Force.

“How bad is it?” Anakin said, feeling a dry tickle in his throat he hoped wouldn’t turn into a cough. Mercifully, it didn’t.

“A very nasty concussion, some minor bruising on your legs, but considering the size of the explosion, you’re extraordinarily lucky.”

“Well, I _was_ quite a ways down the hall,” Anakin said, lifting his hand to feel gingerly at his forehead. His fingers found a large bacta patch sealed over the cut on his brow and a larger one draped over the rest of his head. He hadn’t noticed it before. “How’re Jesse and Tup?”

“About the same as you.”

“So, they’re basically fine?”

Obi-Wan snorted a little. “If you’re fine, then I’m Master Yoda.”

“You’re wise enough to be.”

“You hush. The bacta will finish working in a few hours and _then_ you’ll be fine. Until then, you’d best get some rest.”

“Where’s Ahsoka?”

Obi-Wan smiled, his expression changing from concern to a look of pride. “Your padawan has been quite worried. In fact, I had to shoo her out of here to go get some rest herself. I had to reassure her constantly that you would be fine in a matter of hours. I doubt she’ll believe me until she sees you for herself.”

Anakin only had a vague memory of what had happened in the corridor aboard the Separatist station. He remembered moving up the hallway, turning to whisper something to Fives, then nothing except snatches of conversation between him, Ahsoka, and Rex.

“Well, I can’t imagine where she gets that from,” he replied cheekily. “Seeing as we both seem to get ourselves into trouble. Double the trouble, double the worry for her.”

“Yes, well, sometimes I wonder if she’s the only one who has any sense between the three of us.”

Anakin was about to mutter some snarky reply when he became aware of an approaching Force signature that told him his padawan was clearly _not_ resting, like Obi-Wan had ordered her.

“Skyguy?!” She said, coming into Anakin’s view from where he lay on one of the observation beds. Her concern was even more obvious than Obi-Wan’s – both on her face and her Force presence. He was glad none of the Jedi masters were aboard the ship besides Obi-Wan. They would be frowning in disapproval and likely would have a lecture in store for both of them on “the dangers of attachment.”

“Oh, thank the Force you’re alright,” Ahsoka was saying. “You were so out of it on the ship, it had me and Rex really worried.”

“Sorry,” Anakin said. “I’ll try to remember to tell the Separatists next time I see them not to plant bombs on their space station hallways. They tend to stress out my padawan.”

Ahsoka swatted him playfully on the shoulder. “Good to see your sense of humor is still intact,” she said. “So how’s the head? And don’t you dare say ‘fine,’ because if you do, I’ll hit you myself, master or not.”

“Obi-Wan, help! I’m being threatened!” said Anakin, although he was smiling.

Obi-Wan stroked his beard, looking amused. “I wonder where she gets this from?”

“Certainly not me, Master,” Anakin replied innocently. “I’m the epitome of respect.”

All three of them broke into laughter then. Anakin’s head still throbbed, but the presence of Ahsoka and Obi-Wan dulled the pain somehow. There was no way Master Yoda or Master Mace could tell him this wasn’t healthy.

The laughter died down and Anakin met Ahsoka’s eye, suddenly serious. “All joking aside, Snips, I’m glad to know you have my back. It’s nice to have people looking after me. Even though it’s technically my job to look out for you.”

Ahsoka frowned, though it wasn’t in frustration. “I don’t think so. The ‘looking out for’ goes both ways. Master Yoda says sometimes it’s really the padawan who teaches the Master.”

“And you’ve taught me plenty already, Snips. Thanks.”

“Anytime, Master. We’ll look after each other. I’ll always have your back.”

“And I’ll always have yours.”

Obi-Wan reached out and patted them both on the shoulder. “Alright, that’s enough attachment for one day. Get some rest, Anakin.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I’ll be right here when you wake up, Master,” Ahsoka assured him.

“Thanks, Snips.”

**Author's Note:**

> RIP two random clones I named and then killed off for the sake of plot.


End file.
